Basil of Baker Street: She s the only one to prove him wrong
by Tigerlillyth
Summary: Basil is put through an emotional torture, as after nine years, Olivia comes to visit again. She could be a great help in his current case, but what about the danger? And there is this one case who s still following him after all this time, but it s not Ratigan...The plot s still at the beginning, so it s quite...unfulfilled
1. Chapter 1: Fondness

**Hiya, guys. I´m reverting to my child-like self, getting all sentimental while watching the great mouse detective with my little brother and I realize, I STILL FREAKING LOVE THIS MOVIE!** **So, I started writing a fanfic, because this pairing simply screams for a shipping ^^ and if somebody has a problem with the age difference, go check out Inuyasha: Sesshoumaru & Rin shippings… **

**Anything else? Did I mention, I love this movie? :D**

It was a warm summer morning, when Basil of Baker Street decided to take a walk. So, he got out of bed and hurried downstairs with a large smile on his lips and a very good premonition, he could not quite comprehend. Not even Mrs. Judson was up and his flat lay there, quiet, like it had been all the time since the little Olivia had left. It had been one year since he had solved the case with Ratigan, one year since he had be honoured by the queen herself and one long year, since he had last seen that little girl he had come to hold very dear. Hasting into his short, brown coat, he opened the door and joyfully breathed in the fresh air the season brought with it. Although it wasn´t his usual habit to go for a walk on an early morning, he simply felt like it. Whistling a fellow tune while walking down the streets of London, taking a few turns here and there and letting his thoughts hang, until he came to a huge field of flowers made his mood even better and his spirits high. The blossoms were everywhere and spring left it´s handwriting wherever it touched nature, the morning dew decorating the beauty of the landscape like silvery pearls. Still humming to himself, he let his fingers glide upon the blossoms and leaves as he ran beneath them and continued his thoughtful stroll amongst nature, his path taking a big curve, until he reached the turning into Baker Street again, where he nearly bumped into the scurrying postman.

"A very good day to you, Fisher," Basil greeted, lifting an imaginary hat, a genuine grin on his lips.

"Ah, Mister Basil," Fisher smiled, immediately starting to dig in his oversized yellow postbag, still overflowing with mail. "I got two letters for you this morning, both from...where did I ... Oh my, where oh where..." he said, crawling deeper and deeper into the bag with every word, until he triumphantly reappeared, holding two white envelopes in his hand.

"Ay, I got it! They´re from Scotland, Sir!"

"From Scotland?" Basil´s ears twitched. "Could it be...?" and with a quick gesture, he snatched the letters from the postman´s hand and ran inside, closing the door behind him with a quick twitch of his hand.

The astonished postman just shrugged. "Ay, and a good day to you too, sir." And with that, he went on to the next house.

Inside, Basil carelessly threw his coat over his huge, red armchair and examined the letters from behind. Sniffling alongside them, he turned them in his hands, just for the satisfaction of seeing, if his assumption was correct.

"Yes... a little aroma of oil, a bit greecy, but not bad quality, and a little scent of...vanilla perfume, covered with the smell of metal and...Written by...Ha!" he exclaimed, "Our well known Olivia Flaversham! Or more likely, Miss Flangerhanger." He chuckled. The other one was from her father and as he had sniffed correctly, both of them had been written in the Shop where Olivia´s father produced toys for little mice.

_Dear Mister Basil_, she had written,

_Both my father and I are very well and we are very happy. When I went back to school I was immediately questioned about everything, since it was all in the newspaper, but I didn´t tell much. I thinks It´s a secret just between you, me and Dr. Dawson. But inbetween I really enjoyed being with you, and I miss you really much. We often talk about you, you know? And my father never gets tired of hearing from you, Toby, Dr. Dawson and of course Mrs. Judson and her cheese crumpets. Maybe we´ll see each other soon, _

_With a huge hug, _

_Olivia (Flaversham, just in case you forgot it.)_

Basil chuckled again. He could almost hear the girl´s voice say this to him and her giggle at the end. Sighing in satisfaction, he leaned back in his favourite chair and opened the second letter, telling him all the thanks and gratitude and of course, all the happiness they were having. But it also said that Mister Flaversham had to go on a workshop for inventors, because he needed it to polish up his shop, so as a consequence, and as Olivia was having holidays, he was kindly requesting if she could spend some time with him, until he got back.

"Oh, yes, yes sure she ca...wait what?" Basil shrieked, nearly jumping out of his fur. "Stay with me for one whole week?!" he brought nose very close to the paper, his brows furrowing, as he read the lines again cautiously.

"When is she arriving, AT 11.30 AM?" He cast a glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. 11.15.

"And he didn´t even wait for an answer" he growled from inbetween gritted teeth, as ge grabbed hold of his jacket again and scurried outside, putting on his coat at the same time. He ran through half Baker Street until he finally managed to grab hold of a coach and panting, he made himself comfortable on the metal step made for humans to get out. Luckily for him, the coach went the whole way to the train station and he only had to jump off and search for the right train without getting seen. As he looked on the letter again, to determine, which one was the right one, he was nearly swept away by the wind made by the newest incoming train. Many mice were gathering, and they had to be very careful not to be seen by humans that it turned out to be quite a hustle. And as they were huddling together, someone stepped on his foot, making him jump in surprise.

Rubbing his toes through his gaiters, he cursed silently, as he jumped around on the uninjured one.

"Oh, I´m so sorry," came a high voice from his right. "I was pushed and stumbled."

He looked up in surprise, just to see the mouse lady that had come to him nearly immediately after the ratigan case. The one, whom he had helped find her engagement ring after it had been stolen. As always, the butler had been the culprit. But now she half bending over him and batting her long, blackened eyelashed flirtatiously.

He cleared his throat and put his necktie in order, straightening himself up again.

"Well madam, if it is the weight of your lightness, I´m always at your service."

With that and a small smile, he bowed slightly to her and turned away. To be honest, he always had had a peculiar feeling about this woman, but he couldn´t quite tell, if it was good or bad.

But with one glance upon the incoming train, all peculiar feelings were forgotten, because there, right there upon the metal step of the train stood Olivia, waving her little hat with the red pompon on it and her checkered skirt flew to all sides, as she bounced up and down with excitement.

"Basil, oh Basil" she cried, trying to overshout the loud whistling of the train.

Basil didn´t even make the effort of shouting, he simply waved and with his height, it was easy to make him out in the crowd. Olivia didn´t bother to jump down the train onto the floor, she simply took some drive and launched herself onto the mouse detective, nearly hugging him to death.

Chuckling again, Basil, nearly shy, gave back the hug and took the little girl into a big embrace.

"Hello there."

"Oh Basil" she repeated, her big childish eyes gleaming with joy as she let go. "I´m so happy I´m here." Her Scottish accent had become a little lighter, but her attitude was still the same as one year ago. Overflowing with joy, and most of all, bounce.

"It was a short notice, you know." He said, letting her down and taking her bag. "But I guess that leaves me no other choice, but to take you in for holidays, does it?"

She simply giggled in glee.

"Miss Flamhammer" he added mockingly. Olivia glanced up at him and grinned, putting one finger in her mouth, just like a child would do, when it´s up to some mischief. And when Basil looked away for a second to check if there were any carriages around, she slipped her small palm into his. Astonished, Basil looked down at her, but said nothing as he saw that big smile. Acknoledging defeat, he took her hand firmly, and they jumped on a carriage to Baker Street. On the way there, Olivia told him everything she had done and seen in the past year and for the first time in his twentyone year old life, Basil enjoyed the chattering of a person more than his common silence. Of course, by the time they got back, it was already high noon and Mrs. Judson nearly threw a tantrum, because he had gone away without telling her where or when he would come back. But as soon as she had spotted Olivia behind the detective, she threw her arms in the air and squealed with joy.

"Oh, my, the little deary! You never told me she was coming, Mister Basil." She said, shaking her finger at him. "I haven´t prepared nothing for the young missie."

"Calm down Mrs. Judson," Basil said, helping Olivia out of her coat and hanging it up. "It got the letter announcing her arrival only this morning and had to hurry to the train station to get there in time. And Oli..." he had turned around, just to find she wasn´t behind him anymore, but had jumped into the opened arms of his housekeeper.

"Oh my, how I missed you, you little joyful!" Mrs Judson exclaimed, putting her down on the red chair and clearing up her hat and scarf. "I´ve got some fresh cheese crumpets, how many would you like for breakfast?"

Olivia giggled again and took off her shoes. "Only two, Mrs Judson, I had breakfast already. But I simply can´t say no to your crumpets."

"Oh such a joy having you here." Mrs Judson exlaimed again, vanishing into the kitchen and coming back with a huge plate full of delicious crumpets. In the end, Basil and Olivia finished off the whole tray, while telling each other some stories about the past year. And to his own surprise, Basil didn´t mind the company of a little child, like he might have one year ago, because she had demonstrated him, how it could feel to actually be loved. And even if it was some as small as the love of a child.

By the time, she had finished telling him everything, it was eight o´clock in the evening and he realized her tiredness as her yawns started to grow bigger and bigger.

"Well then, my fair lady," he said, getting up from his chair he had reoccupied. "Bedtime for you."

And to his surprise, she simply yawned, held her sleeve bevore her tiny mouth and nodded sleepily with half closed eyes, following him upstairs without any further protest.

After he had bid her good night and tucked her in, just like she had asked him to, he closed the door carefully, smiling to himself. Who would have known, that he, the great mouse detective, could take such a liking to a mere child. In the end, he was really happy that he hadn´t had the opportunity to write an answer, or even a denial. He was glad that she was here, bringing a little cheerfullness into his routinefilled life. After all, it was only for one week.

But that week went past more quickly than he had imagined. Thankfully for him, he had to solve only one case, having to do something with signature forging, with which Olivia had been quite a help, to his surprise, lending him a keen eye on the documents. And he could feel her passion and see the glittering, whenever he spoke of solved cases and mysteries, and by the end of the week she could nearly solve a case by simply listening to his story attentively and then adding all the details.

And at night, when he had brought her up to bed, he would play the violin for a while, and although such a great detective, he would never realize that little girl, sneaking as close as she dared to the staircase, just to listen to his music.

After these holidays, even although Olivia didn´t come to visit again, they kept a close mail contact, the Flaversham´s sometime even sending beautiful photos, which Basil carefully kept in an album. A blue one, to remind him of Olivia´s favourite colour. And this friendship held a full nine years.

Until it turned into something else.

And what could that be?

**Soooo, Reviews, anyone? :D I´ll have plenty, please ^^ **

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	2. Chapter 2: Nightmares and a blue book

**Aaaand, here´s the 2nd chapter ^^ I was tired when I started this…and when I finished it, so please, don´t be harsh with judgement, because this is just a little "thoughtful" chapter. Emotions, thoughts, memories. All the mushy stuff you really like to daydream about…**

The night was cold and the rain was hitting mercilessly onto the pavement of the London streets. Streams of water poured into the drains and only seldom would a coach pass by, splashing the remainders of puddles to each side. Not many people were outside with this weather and especially not at this time of night and London lay there, still and quiet, resting from its usual busyness, sleeping peacefully.

And beneath the house of 221 B Baker Street, in a house so small, no human would ever think to search for, under a bush, a mouse was sleeping too, tossing, turning and moaning in his uneasy rest. His long and slender fingers clutched into the blanket and he threw himself around, mumbling incomprehensible things. The constant tapping of the raindrops didn´t make it any easier to find peace.

Thunder rolled and lightning struck, illuminating the comfortable bedroom, furnished with a bed and a nighttable at its head, a small desk and a large shelf, covering up one full wall of the room. The paneling was a dark oak wood and many books lay openly on the floor, spread throughout the entire carpeted floor. A second thunder, combined with lightning struck again and this time, Basil awoke with a jump, sitting up straight in his sheets, drenched with sweat.

Panting heavily, he pulled up his knees and leaned his elbow on it, resting his head against his hands.

"It´s just a dream. A dream. A…dream." He repeated, voice shaking, but it was a poor attempt at calming himself down. His sheets were crumpled and his blankets were a mess, but he tried to stop his racing heartbeat and force it to regain a normal pace.

He sighed and inhaled deeply, before shoving the covers aside and swinging his feet out of bed. Sleep simply wouldn´t come.

"You´re a fool" he scolded himself, walking over to the door and grabbing his violet dressing gown from a hook. With a frown, he put it on and shook his head vigorously to free his mind from such darkening thoughts. He felt like he was suffering from a hangover with this overwhelming heaviness and headache.

With his fingers on the handle, he opened the door and let his hand glide down the banister of his wooden stairs as he descended into his living room. Sighing loudly again, he dragged himself to the kitchen and put a kettle on the oven.

Leaning against the counter, he rubbed his eyes in frustration. The shock from the dream weighed heavy, even on him and it had been going on like this for a week. Or a month? Maybe two? He was so exhausted, he had lost track. But the most disturbing part about that wrecked dream was, that it kept coming again and again, only in different variations. And whatever action he took, it always had the same outcome. He died.

But that was not what woke him up every time, no, the shock that he suffered, causing him to jolt up was always the death of someone dear to him.

At the beginning it had always been him alone, but then, as time progressed, they had included Mrs. Judson, Dr. Dawson and sometimes even the girl named Olivia and her father. And in the end, when it was his turn, he died full of regret, sorrow and most of all, completely aware of the fact that their deaths had only been the result of a stupid and selfish mistake he had made.

Snorting, he scolded himself an idiot and tapped his fingers impatiently onto the counter waiting for the kettle to whistle, face frowning, indicating his hard mental labour. As he had nothing else to do, but to stall the time, until the water was hot, he began thinking. Wondering. Pondering. But every theory he put up led to the very same conclusion:

He had no idea what caused these hideous nightmares, or why they continued persistently throughout nearly every second night. Of course, he didn´t believe in bad omen or anything else concerning esoteric climbim, but he simply couldn´t deny the bitter taste of a bad presentiment the dreams brought with them.

Sighing, he closed his eyes in irritation and stretched himself, massaging his eyes with thumb and index finger of his right hand. He really had lost quite some sleep in the last time. Oh why had his life to be so difficult at the moment? Or rather, why had it to be so boring? He was no longer welcome at the Londoner Police department, because of an incident he found rather ridiculous. But the Bobbies seemed to take it pretty badly, because they had forbidden him to take on any other case for the next year or so and he was nearly dying of boredom.

It had, looking back, not even been his fault and he had simply felt so enraged at that time about the stupidity of the officers that although _he_ had agreed to help _them, _he had acted out of an own accord, thus defying at least a dozen of unnecessary protocols someone had made up centuries ago, surely just for the fun of a pastime. Or to annoy people. How dare they reprimand _him, _Basil of Bakerstreet, Mouse Detective honoured by the queen herself, and forbid him to do his duty towards his country? 

The kettle agreed with him, hooting vigorously to make its point and Basil, suppressing a yawn, took it from the gas, turned down the oven and put it beside the hob, opening a wooden cupboard right above his head, rummaging in it, until he found a cup suitable enough in size for a whole load of his undoubtedly most preferred Earl Grey.

Next to the cup, he also found said tea package, half full, from which he extracted two spoonfuls into his cup, and filling the cup with water, he retreated to his armchair, putting the steaming liquid right next to him, onto the little wooden table by the fireside. His chemistry set puffed a little, as he took his pipe from the holder and while he lit the oil lamp, Basil noticed the pile of unread letters beside it. One particular handwriting catching his keen and now fully awakened eye, and he carefully slid out from underneath dozens of others.

"To Basil of Bakerstreet, Great Mouse Detective" he read out aloud. Completely forgetting his surroundings, he marched towards his chair, his feet miraculously avoiding all the books splayed throughout the carpeted floor as his mind entered a world of ones and zeros, digging through flashes of memories, trying to find the matching face to the neatly swung letters.

Slouching into the soft red velvet covering his armchair, he swung his feet across the armrest and put one finger to his chin, pouting with his lower lip forward, as the ones and zeros added up to something familiar to him.

"Where did I… hmmm…seems like it was written in a hurry, the ink splotched once here and here there´s something scribbled over something I can´t read… But I think…It was the lady with the engagement…"

He yawned. But now he finally could tell with a ninety percent certainty that this letter had been written by the same dame that had asked him to search for her ring and exactly the same lady who had stomped on him once at the trainstation when Olivia had come over.

Olivia…Olivia… He looked up from his rather uncomfortable position and went over to one of the bookshelves, from which he pulled a small, blue velvet album, the letter being thrown carelessly onto some sideboard. The memories he had required throughout the years hadn´t been numerous concerning her, but ever more so, every detail of her he tried to keep in mind, as long as it was allowed to him. For some yet still unknown reason to him, he had this distinct feeling of sympathy every time he thought of that girl. How old would she be by now? Seventeen? Eighteen? Shaking his head, he began running his fingers alongside the slowly fading shades of grey, reminiscing about her cheerful laughter the last spring she had visited him. The last photo showed her in the Grand Canyon in America to where she had taken a trip with her school, her hair sticking out from beneath her hat, held with one hand to prevent it from flying away, ruffled from the less than light breeze obviously roaming the landscape that day.

Only half of the album remained empty, but Basil, having one of his rare sentimental moments, reached for his violin, still embedded in this feeling of reminiscence and he started playing a little tune, thinking about that girl. And he wondered why she wouldn´t leave his head. Because he had to admit, she had something that fascinated him, although he couldn´t quite put his finger on it.

Unwillingly he also had to admit, that her letters, being an exception to every other he had ever received, weren´t stored away in folders like the rest of his nearly archived documents, but were neatly tucked into the drawer of his nighttable.

Childish, it may seem, for you wouldn´t expect a full grown adult mouse to hold something like a letter from a person he hadn´t seen in nearly four years now so dear. True, he hadn´t seen her for such a long time and still, he remembered much of what he usually would have forgotten.

His eyes grew heavier and slowly closed, as daydreams, although nighttime, changed into a deeper, more restful sleep and the fingers around violin gently unclasped, as sleep took back what nightmares had stolen.

Mrs. Judson woke up the right time as usual, she was a very tidy and altogether proper person, but when she came into the kitchen, she nearly had a fit.

Stemming her hands into her hips, she began scolding to herself, mumbling to herself as she opened the cupboard.

"Oh, Mister Basil, when will you learn that a kettle does not belong onto the wooden sideboards, especially when it´s hot! And the tea! Oh my, it must have lost all its flavour, standing here open all night! Mister Basil, oh when I…"

Leaving the threat unspoken, she crumpled up her sleeves to give the houselord a good teaching about how things were to be handled in her kitchen, but when she came into the living room, she couldn´t help but smile at the fact that the great detective was all curled up his armchair, head leaned against the cushioned chairback.

Her anger dissipated, her motherly heart taking pity of the peacefully sleeping mouse and she went into the cupboard under the stairs, coming out of it with a large red blanket which she draped over him. His instrument shrieked a little, but she managed to take it away from him without him noticing or even waking up, but then she noticed the other thing he was clutching. It was a small blue book.

Removing this proved a little more difficult than his violin, because subconsciously, it didn´t seemed as if he were willing to let it go. So she gave up and head shaking, she retreated to the kitchen, smiling into herself.

Artists. All the same. Crazy to at least some degree.

Well, the grounding could wait. At least until he was awake.

**Hmmm, well this turned out to be kinda a nonsense chapter… I guess this was mostly due to the fact that I´m a little too tired… Forgive me, but I simply like it too much to delete everything and write it from anew. But, at least it´s emotional… up to some point… leave me some reviews, tell me how much I sucked and while you do, I´ll be working on the next chapter Which will definitely contain a little more plot!**


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